


Of Forks and Victories

by 9_of_Clubs



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Hannibal Cooks, hints of slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 20:17:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/891417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/9_of_Clubs/pseuds/9_of_Clubs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal comes to visit Will in jail with offerings of his own sort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Forks and Victories

He sets the container on the table between them and sits. After all, he would never abandon Will, not when the other still needs him so, and the food in prison must be absolutely horrendous. That is unforgivable.

He waits.

Will is staring at him, so he merely acknowledges the gaze with a nod and pushes the container towards him. 

"Are you fucking kidding me?" The explosion of words comes after a heartbeat of silence. He’s pleased to find there’s a note of amusement mixed in with the strangled rage in Will’s tone; he will, he decides, put that down as progress. 

"Coq au vin," He declares. “Made with freshly picked mushrooms, lardons, cooked in wine and just a hint of garlic." 

Will is still staring at him, when he’s done speaking, so he stares back, he enjoys the tumult of emotions that echo around in the other’s gaze. So delightfully tangled. But Hannibal will untangle them for him, in time. 

"Are. you." Will repeats, and he becomes so uncouth when he’s angry, if it were anyone else Hannibal would have their tongues, but on Will, it’s suitable, lovely, even, “Fucking. Kidding. Me?" 

"I am not." He replies finally, taking it upon himself to undo the container, letting the steam rise out of it. The delicious smell fills the tiny room they’ve been allowed, he is Will’s doctor after all, and must be allowed to see him in this trying time. And no, no, he’s not offended by the accusations, quite the contrary, they mean his help is required even more. 

He can see the dilemma beginning in Will’s head, the intent way in which he peers at the dish and the slight movement of his fingers as they ache for the fork.   
"Is it…" Will sighs finally, looking from the food to him and back. “Is it people, Dr. Lecter?" 

Hannibal tilts his head, moving to press the fork into Will’s fingers, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “Would you believe me if I said no?" 

Their gazes freeze together, their hands stuck on the utensil, and they stay that way for three minutes by his count, though it feels a lot longer, in the way that time sometimes stretches. 

Finally, Will withdraws, the fork with him. 

Hannibal allows his smile to grow. If amusement was progress, this is a victory.


End file.
